


Your Name is Castiel

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Car Accidents, Coma, Emotions, Happy Ending, Hospitals, M/M, Nightmares, Robbery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yellow walls or blue walls. Yellow walls or blue walls. Yellow walls or blue walls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Yellow walls or blue walls. 

Yellow walls or blue walls.

Yellow or blue. 

Yellow blue. 

Yellow. 

Blue. 

Dean pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes as he tried not to think on what they had been fighting over before it happened. It had been a stupid fight, a petty fight; something that should have been solved at the store, not while they were driving seventy miles an hour on the interstate. 

The more he thought on it, the worse he felt. Castiel had wanted yellow walls; not construction yellow or caution tape yellow. He’d called it _Golden Slumber_ ; that was the name on the paint chip at least. Castiel had loved that color. Dean hated yellow and had begged Castiel to allow him to paint the walls blue. 

Of course, that had stemmed an argument over what _kind_ of blue, to which Dean replied _blue_. He had never realized there were so many _kinds_ of blue, not until they had gone to Lowe’s and to the paint section. Frost Wind, Mineral Water, Serene Sky, Maiden Voyage, Tropical Splash, Sea Ridge, Royal Peacock; it had been overwhelming to say the least. Dean remembered making Castiel stand still whilst Dean held up paint chips playfully to his face. To find the right blue for the walls, Dean had to compare the color to the most beautiful blue of all. 

That had made Castiel blush. 

Eventually, Dean had settled on _Atlas Blue_. 

It wasn’t the same as Castiel’s eyes, but it was sort of close. Better than _Golden Slumber_ that was for certain. However, they’d never settled on a color, but they had been on the highway to go _back_ to Lowe’s and pick out paint for the living room. They’d fought the whole way, the road had been slippery, and the traffic clogged. That was how it had happened. One wrong move and Castiel hadn’t been looking. It had happened in a split second; one moment they were fine, the next moment the car had rolled and flipped across the barrier and been struck sideways. 

Dean had managed to leave the scene with a broken collarbone, a few abrasions, and fifteen stitches. 

Castiel was still in the ICU in critical condition. They couldn’t get him to wake up and they weren’t sure if he had brain damage or not. Dean wasn’t even allowed to go back and see him yet; he was still waiting in the front with all of the other worrying families, his right arm in a sling, and his eyes watering up every few moments, even though he angrily brushed the tears away. The people around him didn’t need to see a grown man cry like a baby, even if that was what he wanted to do. 

Why hadn’t he just let Castiel paint the damn walls yellow? It wasn’t as if it were _that_ big of a deal; he could grow to like it or they could paint one wall blue as an accent color. They could have picked an entirely _different_ color together as a compromise, but both he _and_ Castiel were stubborn. Sam called them bullheaded. 

Dean startled. Sam. Sam had _no_ idea he’d been in an accident, but could have easily been on the freeway going to work during the traffic jam. Standing up slowly, Dean made his way over to the nurses’ station, hoping one of them would be nice enough to let him use a phone to call his brother. Sam needed to know Castiel was on borrowed time. 

“Can I help you, Sir?” a blonde, blue-eyed nurse asked him. She was pretty and delicate; the kind of woman Sam would have liked.

“Um,” he said, realizing he was almost forgetting how to use English properly. Everything felt sluggish and his tongue was a dead weight in the dry desert that was his mouth. He needed water. 

“Do you need something?” she asked, slowly standing up and staring at him with real concern. How bad did he look anyway? 

“I, um, need to use a phone,” he managed to say. “Call my brother... Tell him I’m here.” 

She nodded and turned the phone at her desk around for him. “Just hit one to do an outgoing call, okay?” A small smile made her lips turn up and she reached over to touch his arm in comfort for a moment before stepping away to leave him in privacy. 

Dean weakly picked up the phone, trying to cradle it between his shoulder and ear, whilst he dialed Sam’s number. It rang a few times before his brother finally answered. 

“Hello?” 

“Sam...” he rasped, feeling his voice come close to breaking already. 

“Dean? Hey! I’ve been trying to call you for hours, man! Where are you? You should have seen the highway it was a fucking wreck. Took me two hours to get to work-.” 

Dean shut his eyes as tears filled them up again. He was powerless to keep them from falling this time. “Sam,” he whispered shakily. 

Sam cut off and went on alert. “Dean... What’s wrong?” 

“Cas and I were in a car accident... He’s in a coma.” 

“Oh my God-... Wait... _No_.” 

Dean dropped the phone and covered his eyes with his hand as the tears overwhelmed him. Castiel was in a coma and there was nothing he could do about it. The nurse walked back over to him and picked up the phone, trying to talk to Sam and help him at the same time. He needed to sit down; he needed to _lie_ down. He wanted to see his husband. 

He wanted to make sure Castiel was going to all right.

* * *

The walls were Atlas Blue. The sun was shining in and Dean commented that _they_ were probably Golden Slumber, which created the best of both worlds. Dean smiled and stretched out along their cream sofa, the cushions so plush he sank down a few inches, while Castiel came to lie down with him; well on _top_ of him, which he didn’t mind at all. 

Pressing Castiel’s back to his chest, Dean began to pet his lover’s hair, kissing the back of his head. “You like the color?” he asked, genuinely wanting Castiel to be happy. If he weren’t happy, they would paint over the walls in the color Cas liked. 

“Hmmmm.” Castiel stretched and sighed with contentedness. “I am happy.” 

Dean chuckled. “Does that mean you like the color or not?” he laughed. 

“I am happy,” Castiel repeated like a parrot. 

“Cas? C’mon, quit playing around.” Dean tickled Castiel’s ribs, which made his lover shiver. “You like the color or not?” 

“Hmmm.” Castiel sighed again. “I am happy.” 

A frown burrowed the skin between his eyebrows and Dean tried to make Castiel turn around so they could talk more face to face, but there was something running down Castiel’s neck and onto Dean’s shirt. It was sticky and dark in color. It was like corn syrup. How had Cas gotten _corn syrup_ in his hair? He sighed and shook his head, wrapping an arm around Castiel’s chest. 

“You gotta start showering after you bake,” he joked, pressing another kiss to Castiel’s hair. He coughed and yanked back when the liquid touched his lips. Dean reached up to wipe his mouth and saw with alarm that they came away red. “Cas, you’re bleeding.” 

Castiel sat up and reached to touch the back of his head; his hand came away red. Dean gagged and pulled back when he saw Castiel’s shirt bloom crimson, like a deadly flower. There was blood pouring off of him and Dean didn’t know what to do. He stood up and stared at Cas in horror. 

“Cas, you’re bleeding,” he said again. 

Castiel shrugged a little. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Cas, we should take you to the ER. I’m going to call 911-.” 

“I’m fine, Dean.” 

“You’re not fine, you’re bleeding!!” Dean spun around and startled. He wasn’t in his living room anymore; he standing on an empty interstate. It was foggy, cold, and damp. When he spun around again, Castiel was gone. “Cas?! Cas!?” 

He received no answer. 

There were lights coming down the road at him rapidly. He had to step out of the way in time for a car to go careening past him. It was going too fast. Dean cried out as the car struck something he couldn’t see and rolled over, flipping into the fog. The sound alone made him want to throw up. There was no way someone had walked away from that alive. 

“Cas?” he called shakily into the fog. His voice echoed back to him and Dean shuddered, tears forming in his eyes as he walked toward where he thought the car had crashed. “Cas?!” 

Sirens were screaming. Dean came upon the wreck and he stared in horror at the wreckage. Someone was crawling free. It was him. Dean gasped and rushed over to Castiel’s side of the car, but he couldn’t get there. It kept fading. He screamed Castiel’s name until his voice went hoarse. 

“Dean.” 

He gasped and spun around. Castiel stood still behind him, wearing a hospital gown. He as pristine and clean compared to earlier. “Cas... Cas, you have to wake up-.” 

“Dean.” 

“Cas, can you hear me?” 

“ _Dean_.” 

xxx

“Dean, wake. C’mon.” 

Dean startled awake, his heart slamming hard in his chest as he sat up. Sam was standing over him and giving him a little shake. “Shit-.” Running a hand over his face, Dean slumped down in his chair. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I just got here.” Sam sat down slowly beside him. “They said you were having a fit or something.” 

“I got upset,” Dean replied with a little huff. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“It’s understandable,” Sam said. “Do you know how he’s doing?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t know. He was in the ICU the last time I checked.” 

Sam sighed. “What happened? Do you remember?” 

Dean glanced over at Sam in shame before staring down at his shoes. “We were on the way to Lowe’s to pick out a color for the living room. He wanted Golden Slumber and I hate yellow. I said no... I wanted Atlas Blue.” Dean punched the armrest of the couch he was sitting on with his good hand. “I should have just let him paint the fucking walls yellow.” 

“I don’t understand-.” 

“We were _fighting_. Cas got distracted, he hit something, I don’t know... I just know we hit something and then we were flipping. All I can remember is the scream I heard... I don’t know if it was him or me... but one of us was screaming and then we were struck on the side because we flipped over the barrier- that’s all I remember. I woke up here in a hospital bed.” 

“They let you out?” Sam asked sounding surprised. 

“Yeah, I got away pretty easy. Cas took all the damage... He was in emergency surgery for hours. They finally took him to the ICU in critical condition. They haven’t even let me see him yet.” Dean looked over at Sam in fear. “What if he... what if I don’t get to see him-.” 

“Wait here.” Sam stood up and walked over to the nurses’ station. Dean had no idea what Sam was attempting to accomplish, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t go far. The people here weren’t letting him near Cas; for his safety or Cas’ he wasn’t quite sure. 

However, Sam gestured at him eventually, so Dean stood up and walked over. “What’s going on?” 

“Going to take you to see your husband,” the blonde nurse from earlier told him. 

“They wouldn’t let me...” Dean said, trailing off, as he followed her with uncertainty. “It’s okay?” 

“We’ll make it okay,” she replied with a little smile, taking him through some locked doors that needed a pass to get in. They made their way down the hall and then into a room in the far corner of the left hand side. “He’s in here,” she said. “Take your time.” 

Dean paused at the door, afraid to walk in; he could hear all of the sounds the monitors and other equipment was making, but he wasn’t prepared to see Cas hooked up to all of the machines. Taking a deep breath, Dean stepped passed the threshold and slowly walked up to the bed, which had a curtain drawn. His good hand shook with fear as he pulled the curtain back; he felt as if he were on one of those game shows where the host asks _‘what’s behind curtain number one?’_ and then revealed their prize. 

Dean felt his stomach twist at the sight of Castiel on the bed. It wasn’t a prize at all. Cas was hooked up to so many wires and machines, Dean was astounded they could find places to stick him, he was on a ventilator to keep him breathing, and he was wrapped in bandages all over. Dean slid his hand to his mouth, his eyes wide, wishing he could look away. But he couldn’t. He had to face this. 

Swallowing back some tears, Dean walked over and pulled up a chair to sit beside Castiel, his hand reaching over to pick up Cas’ to hold. He felt so cold; which wasn’t surprising, since Cas was _always_ cold. Even wore socks to bed and during sex. Dean smiled at the thought, bending forward to kiss Cas’ knuckles. 

“Hey, Baby,” he said, forcing himself to stay composed. “It’s me... It’s Dean... I know you’re in there, fighting the good fight, because that’s what you do... Always. And, I know you’re strong, Cas, I _know_ that... but you gotta do me a favor, okay?” 

He cut off as his voice began to waver. The words were right there on his tongue, but getting them out was a lot harder than it seemed. “You have to wake up... You _need_ to wake up, because I can’t do this without you, Cas. I love you... I love you _so_ much. You’re not allowed to check out early, not after the stupid fight we had over _paint_. C’mon, you gotta wake up to kick my ass for not just letting you have the color you wanted. Please.” 

He didn’t know if Castiel could hear him, but that would not stop him from talking to Cas nonstop. Maybe it would help. Maybe it wouldn’t. Supposedly, at least in all of the Lifetime movies he’d seen (chick flicks were secretly his favorite), talking to coma patients was supposed to be helpful. He would do _anything_ to get Cas back; sell his soul, die, anything at all. As long as Cas got to live. 

“Please, Cas. Please wake up. I need you... We’re family, Baby. Sam needs you. I do, too. We can paint the living room yellow or green or purple. Whatever color _you_ want. You can hang your bee paintings up and you can get the cat you wanted, even though I’m allergic. I’ll put up with it, it’s fine.” Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand, wishing Cas’ fingers would squeeze back, but they remained limp in his grasp. 

Tears came then. Flowing down his face as the gates unleashed. Dean didn’t stop crying. He didn’t stop crying when they came to tell him he had to leave; he didn’t stop crying when Sam took him back to his apartment; he didn’t stop crying all night. 

* * *

Dean went to visit Castiel every single day for three weeks. He remained unchanged, which was neither good nor bad according to the hospital. He talked to Castiel, he read him his favorite stories, he brought him his favorite stuffed animals and sweaters and socks. The nurses even let him put the socks on Cas’ feet to keep them warm. They were blue with little bees on them; they were Cas’ favorite. 

By week six, the nurses and doctors were telling him he could keep hoping, but it would be unlikely Castiel would ever wake up. The only good sign was that Castiel was now breathing on his own, but it didn’t mean much. 

By the start of week eight, Dean started to go less and less to the hospital, since he had bills to pay and needed to work. The living room was never painted, even though Dean had considered painting it yellow more than once. Most of the time, Dean stayed with Sam, because being at the house was too painful. He couldn’t sleep in their room knowing Cas may never return. 

He was on his way to work when he got the phone call. The immediate shock almost made him wreck _his_ car, but Dean did a U-turn and did eighty all of th way to the hospital, hoping a cop wouldn’t pull him over along the way. As soon as he hit pavement, Dean ran into the building, unsure if he’d even parked legally, and to the nearest elevator to take him up to Cas’ room. Of course, the one day he wanted to hurry, they had to stop on more than one floor along the way, but eventually, Dean rushed into the ICU and to the door, opening it wtihout knocking. The family he ended up disturbing gave him dark looks. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped before spinning around and walking back out to the nurses’ station. “Excuse me? Where is Castiel Novak?” Was he too late? Had he fucked up? They’d just told them they needed him down here, nothing else. 

“Castiel Novak...” The nurse typed away into her computer. “Oh, he was moved. He’s downstairs in room 112.” 

Dean relaxed. “Thank you.” Turning, Dean spun back to the elevator, trying to calm his climbing heart rate; if Cas had been moved from the ICU that had to be good he assumed.

Room 112 was the first room to his right when he finally found hte right hallway, so Dean took a deep breath and let himself into the room. Castiel was sitting up in the bed, _awake_ , surrounded by two nurses and his attending. Relief washed over Dean in a huge wave, he almost fell over. 

“Cas,” he gasped, making Castiel’s eyes snap to him. “You’re awake. Baby- I’m so _glad_.” 

The doctor spun around and gave him a look. Dean didn’t know what that look meant, but it wasn’t a good one. “Mr. Winchester, can we step outside for a moment, please?” 

The relief was washed away with panic, so he nodded, and followed the doctor back outside. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?” 

“He’s having problems with his memory.” Dr. Harvelle stared at him sadly. “He doesn’t know who he is or you... We called you preemptively, I apologize for that, but I ask that you try not to overwhelm him too much.” 

“Oh...” Dean trailed off. “Will he remember eventually?” 

“Possibly,” Dr. Harvelle replied. “We have hope that he will start to recall his memories, but as of right now, he can hardly remember his name. His short term memory is very poor and his long term memory is almost non existent. You can go in, tell him your name, and who you are, but he will probably have to ask you in thirty minutes who you are again.” 

Dean gulped and nodded weakly. “Oh.” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester. We will do what we can for him. I’m already having some therapists come in later today to see if we can work him through some of the memory loss, and attempt to strengthen what little short term memory he has.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Dean asked. The exhaustion was starting to creep in. It had been foolish to assume that Cas would wake up _normal_ , even if that was what he _had_ assumed. 

“Just keep him comfortable, stay friendly. Try to help him remember things, but don’t mention his accident, that could trigger a panic attack, and we don’t want that,” Dr. Harvelle replied. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Castiel is already far beyond what we’d ever hoped. You should be proud of him.” 

Dean nodded. “I am. Can I go in now?” 

“Yes.” 

Another deep breath later, Dean was sitting beside Castiel and introducing himself. “Hey, Cas,” he said. 

“Who is Cas?” Castiel asked immediately, staring at him with wonder. 

“You,” Dean replied. “That’s your name.” 

“Cas.” 

“Yes, that’s right. I’m Dean.” 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Dean gulped, forcing tears back at Castiel’s regular greeting. It was a miracle to hear it again. “Hey.” 

“Do we know each other?” Castiel asked. 

“Yep.” Dean nodded and lifted up his hand to show Cas the ring he wore. “We’re married.” 

“You’re my _husband_?” Castiel’s eyes grew wide. “Oh.” 

Dean smiled a little. “Yeah. We’ve been married for two years, but we’ve known each other for a really long time. Like going on fifteen years.” 

“Is that a long time?” Castiel started to play with his hospital gown, picking and brushing his fingers along it. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

“Can I hold your hand?” Dean asked, his own reaching in desperation. Castiel nodded and placed his hand in Dean’s; they stayed that way, until abruptly, Castiel yanked out of his touch. “What?”

“Who are you?” Castiel asked and Dean felt his heart sink. 

“Dean,” he replied heavily. “My name is Dean.” 


	2. Chapter 2

By the end of visiting hours, Dean was mentally exhausted. He had told Castiel about their life over and over, constantly reintroducing himself and who he was to Cas; who _Cas_ was. He had to remind himself that he had taken vows, through thick and thin, sickness and in health. He wouldn’t abandon Castiel simply because he couldn’t remember anything. 

“Maybe you should 50 First Date him,” Sam suggested later that evening over dinner at Dean’s favorite diner. He wasn’t sure if Sam was joking or not. 

“Like Adam Sandler him?” Dean shook his head and took another bite of his burger. “No way,” he said after swallowing the large bite. “I won’t subject him to that trash.” 

“No, man, like... Make him a video about your life that he can watch. Maybe it’ll jog his memory. Show him the house, show him your _life_ together. You guys take all of those videos, put them in a larger one. Like that trip we had to the Grand Canyon last summer. Put those videos in there.” Sam stabbed his salad a few times, twirling his fork a little as he thought out loud. “Or your wedding videos, the stupid home videos you guys take.” 

“Hey,” Dean snapped, pointing his finger at Sam. “They’re not so stupid now that they could be useful... Just gotta make sure to keep the sexy ones out.” 

Sam groaned and covered his face as if he were in pain. “Gross.” 

Dean grinned. “What can I say, Cas has an exhibition complex.” 

“Okay, dude, more than I needed to know... You going back tomorrow to see him?” Sam looked at him curiously. “I mean I know you were getting tired before, seeing him in a coma all the time, but he’s awake now.” 

“Yeah... But it’s fucking exhausting telling him who I am every half hour,” Dean replied as his shoulders slumped. “He can’t even remember his own name. It’s really sad.” 

“But he’s your husband,” Sam said quietly. “You promised you’d be there for him.” 

“I know, Sammy, I know. I’m going back tomorrow.” 

“I mean, imagine how _he_ feels. You think _you’re_ tired? Imagine waking up with _no_ memory of anything. Not who you are, where you are, how you got there, the strange people around you...,” Sam gestured at him, “Imagine being him and seeing this strange man with you, telling you that he’s your husband, and then forgetting every thirty minutes. Just wiping your brain clean like a slate.” 

Dean sighed and nodded. It was true; being in Castiel’s shoes had to be more terrifying than being in his. “You’re right.” 

Sam pushed his plate aside once it was only remnants of dressing and small pieces of lettuce. “Not trying to say your issues aren’t relevant or important, just that he’s going through a lot too is all.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Dean ran a hand down his face. “I’m just so fucking tired.” 

“That’s understandable.” Sam nodded and reached over to grip his wrist for a moment. “Go home, get some rest. Maybe don’t go back tomorrow. Take a break. He won’t remember anyway.” 

Dean flinched because Sam was right and he hated it.

“Your name is Castiel and you’re in the hospital. You have trouble with your memory right now. I’m Dr. Harvelle, this is Anna Milton, she’s your nurse.” 

Castiel stared up at her and nodded a little. “Okay,” he said. _I’m Castiel. I’m Castiel and I’m in a hospital and my memory is bad._ “Have I always been like this?” 

“No.” 

“Oh.” 

A handsome man walked into the room with a little wave. “Hey, Cas.” 

Castiel stared at him. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Dean. I’m your husband.” 

“Husband?”

Dean nodded. “Yep, we’re married.” He smiled and sat down in a chair by the bed. 

_I’m married. That’s Dean, my husband. I’m Castiel. That’s Dean and I’m Castiel and we’re married._ “Oh, hello Dean.” 

Dean smiled and reached over to hold his hand for a moment. “You look better today.” 

“I do?” 

“Yeah, a lot better. How’s he doin’, Doc?” Dean asked Dr. Harvelle. 

“He’s improving, his memory is still not very good, however, he is able to remember things for about forty-five minutes to an hour now. It’s strenghtening.” 

“ _Good_ ,” Dean said with a huge grin and a squeeze of Castiel’s hand. “That’s really good, Baby. I was thinkin’ of bringing in pictures and videos, is that okay?” 

Castiel watched the conversation happen, feeling like a third party who bore no interest in what was happening. They were talking about pictures and videos of a life he had once had; a life he had no memory of whatsoever. It was horrifying, having a blank spot in his brain. 

_I am Castiel. That’s Dean. We’re married. Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean. Castiel. Castiel. Castiel. Cas. Dean. DeanCas. CasDean. I’m in a hospital and I can’t remember much._

“I’ll forget you?” Castiel finally blurted out, tired of being talked about but not addressed. Dean looked over at him, his face sad. “When?” 

“In about an hour,’ Dr. Harvelle replied quietly. “But, we are working on improving your short term and long term memory.” 

Castiel looked at Dean in horror; he didn’t want to forget his husband. That seemed atrocious. “I don’t want to forget you,” he whispered. 

“Me neither,” Dean admitted with a sad face. “But I’ll be here to remind you again, don’t worry.” 

_I am Castiel. This is my husband, Dean_. “Can you tell me about our life?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Dean gave Dr. Harvelle a nod as she left and then removed his phone from his pocket. Soon, Castiel was viewing picture after picture of them together; kissing, smiling, cuddling. Pictures of them at very beautiful places. Eventually, Dean landed on a photo of them together, wearing sunglasses, arms wrapped around each other, and smiling ear to ear, a large vista behind them. 

“Where are we there?” Castiel asked, taking the phone to look at the picture more intently. It seemed... familiar. 

“Grand Canyon,” Dean replied with a grin. “You always wanted to go, so we finally broke down and went.”

“Who took our picture?” 

“Sam, my little brother. He went with us too, him and his girlfriend. We had a great time,” Dean explained, a fond smile filling his face at the memory. 

Castiel stared at the photograph, muttering without thinking about it, “We had a good time until you fell. We had to take you to a hospital.” 

Dean blinked. “What?” he asked. “What’d you say?” 

He looked up at Dean, more serious. “You fell. Didn’t you?” 

For a moment, Dean stared at him blankly before recognition flooded his face. “Yes, I did fall... We went to the hospital, that’s right. You remember that?” 

“I don’t know, it’s like... a movie in my head... Like I’m just watching a movie. All I remember was all the blood and you kept saying you were fine, but you were _bleeding_.” Castiel pressed the phone back into Dean’s hand. “It was a hard day.” 

Dean nodded. “Yeah,” he said with a slow nod. “It was... That’s good that you remember a little, Cas. That’s good.” 

Castiel looked over at Dean again. _This is Dean, he’s my husband. We went to the Grand Canyon together, he fell and hurt himself. There was a lot of blood. We went to the hospital to make sure he was alright. He had ten stitches. I’m Castiel Novak. I like cats. I like bees. I’m in a hospital too. I don’t know why._

“I like cats,” Castiel blurted out loud. “And bees.” 

Dean nodded excitedly. “Yes. You do! You love those things.” 

Castiel’s eyes squinted at Dean as he continued to think. “You love pie.” Dean grinned and nodded. “And frisky women.”

That made Dean laugh hard. “Oh shit, um, yes, um... That’s from my online dating profile that Sam made as a joke, it’s how we met, actually. You messaged me because you were interested that I was getting my degree in engineering and I have _no_ idea why, because you were a philosophy and English major.” 

_I am Castiel. This is Dean, my husband, he loves pie, frisky women, and he’s intelligent. I was an English major and philosophy, too. I like cats and bees. The color yellow is my favorite._

“I like yellow,” Castiel said quietly. Dean’s face changed then; it drained of color as if Castiel had said something awful. “Was I wrong?” 

“No,” Dean whispered. “You aren’t wrong.” 

“Then what’s wrong?” 

Dean opened his mouth but said nothing. Castiel frowned and then startled as a loud noise outside of his room made him jump. He tried to hold onto the memories of Dean and himself, but already, he could feel them slipping out of his hands like grains of sand. _I am Castiel. I am Castiel. I am. I._

He looked over to his left and there was a man sitting beside him. “Who are you?” he asked with a tilt of his head. More importantly, who was he? 

* * *

“He remembered more stuff?” Sam asked him as they sat down to eat dinner together again. 

“Yep,” Dean replied with a nod and a long drink. “Didn’t last long, but he _did_ remember stuff. Like how I fell at the Grand Canyon, how he likes cats and bees, and how I love pie.” 

_And how he likes the color yellow_. 

Dean shuddered. Castiel remember that last tidbit of information made him want to throw up. Would Castiel _blame_ him for the accident in the long wrong? Would he blame him for the car accident? If they had _just_ settled the fight at home; if he had _just_ let Castiel paint the damn living room yellow... 

If. If. If. If. 

He was tired of playing the _what if_ game, even though it seemed to come naturally in this type of situation. 

“Dean?” 

He glanced up from the burger he hadn’t yet touched. “Yeah?” 

“What’s wrong?” Sam set his fork down, coming to full attention. Dean sighed heavily in response. “Dean?” 

“He remember that he likes yellow,” he muttered. “It was just... a cold reminder as to why he’s there in the first place.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

An awkward silence fell over them and Dean tried not to think too hard on it. 


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel came home when the doctor’s deemed him physically well enough, with the promise he would continue seeing an doctor in outpatient care for his memory loss. At first, it was awkward, since Castiel had no memory of their house or how things worked, even though at times, he did things intuitively. Sometimes, Castiel remembered little things: 

The garden he grew in the summertime and how the year previous it had become overrun with bugs, but Cas had refused to use pesticides. 

Before they’d moved in together, Castiel had had a very specific way of ordering things; some would call him OCD, but he’d gotten better about it, however, he was starting to do it again. Dean didn’t mind, it was just an adjustment for him all over again. 

How they used to watch TV shows together every Friday night; one week Dean would pick and the next Cas would pick. 

Lastly, Castiel remember vaguely how they were supposed to throw a barbecue and entertain their friends. Dean had forgotten about it, and he’d tried to explain to Castiel that it had been a long time since they were meant to do so, but that would have meant explaining the accident, which they were under advisory to hold back on until Cas was ready. 

So, Dean found himself calling up their friends and inviting them to throw the party on short notice. None of them were really partial to coming on such short notice, but Dean went so far as to blackmail some of them into coming. Not that Castiel needed to know that little detail. The day of, Castiel was fussing around the house, trying make everything _look_ nice, while Dean was firing up the grill in the back with Sam. 

“Is it weird?” Sam asked him as he glanced at Castiel rearranging flowers for the tenth time in thirty minutes. “Having him here? Like nothing even happened?” 

Dean sighed. “Yeah,” he admitted heavily. “But it’s also nice, ahving him here. It’s better than _not_ having him here, I’ll say that much.” 

Sam looked over at him. “You _are_ thankful, right? That’s alive and awake?” 

He nodded and turned his eyes to the steak on the plate, waiting to be placed on the hot grill. The truth of the matter was that Dean was grateful that Cas was alive, but he wasn’t sure how grateful he felt on Cas being awake with no memory. Making Castiel fall in love with him all over again was tiring. Not to mention, having to explain to Castiel who he was now and agan was also exhausting. 

“I’m just glad he’s not forgetting every half hour anymore,” Dean said, placing the steaks on. The sizzle made him shudder; it was strangely similar to sounds from the car accident. 

“How often now?” Sam asked. 

“He can usually got the whole day,” Dean said with a small smile. “It’s usually in the morning when he wakes up that he gets upset. I set an alarm before he gets up so I can prepare myself for telling him who he is and why he’s here.” 

“Wow.” 

“ _Yeah_.” 

“He’ll remember, Dean,” Sam said quietly, reaching over to touch his arm. “He’ll remember.” 

“Yeah, I hope so.” 

The doorbell rang and Dean let Sam take over so he could answer. Castiel was already walking down the hall to get the door. Jo, Charlie, and Ash were all standing outside, smiling and greet Cas. Dean went to stand near him. 

“Cas,” Dean said, “this is Jo, Charlie, and Ash. They’re our friends.” 

“Hello,” Castiel greeted. 

“Hey, Cas,” Charlie said, wrapping her arms around him in a hug quickly. Dean couldn’t have stopped her in time, but Cas hugged her back, even if he looked uncomfortable. “I’m _so_ glad you’re here.” 

Dean gave Charlie a look over Cas’ shoulder. Had they forgotten to not mention the accident? 

“I am glad you are here,” Castiel parroted. 

Dean pulled Cas aside gently to let the others in, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Doing good, Baby.” 

“I wish I could remember them,” Castiel whispered sadly. 

“You will, babe, you will.” 

They walked down the hall and Dean stepped aside Castiel to grab the others. He told them to not mention the car accident quietly, while Cas went to look at the flowers once again. 

“Sorry,” Charlie whispered. “I totally forgot. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, just don’t bring it up, alright?” Dean glanced over at Cas, feeling his lips form in a thin line. “Cas, Baby, the flowers are fine.” 

Castiel glanced up from the vase. “What?” 

“The flowers, they’re fine. You don’t gotta change ‘em around again. They look great.” He tried to smile, even if it came across tight and forced. 

“Oh.” Castiel turned to look at the flowers, clearly struggling to walk away from them. 

“Come on, come talk to the guys.” Dean opened his arm for Cas, holding out his hand. “Leave the flowers alone.” 

Castiel slowly turned to take his hand, looking sad that he could not, once again, change the arrangement around. “They’re not right,” he insisted, but Dean pulled him outside, having him sit on the patio furniture. 

“They’re perfect,” he insisted, leaning over to kiss Cas’ temple. “Just like you.” 

Castiel blushed at that and then Dean left him in Jo’s and Charlie’s hands, walking back to the grill. He sighed, trying not to feel overwhelmed and tired, but all Dean wanted to do was go upstairs, forsake the party, and take a nap. 

“Dean? You okay?” Sam asked once he arrived back at the grill. 

“Just tired,” Dean replied. 

“You don’t look so good,” Ash said.

“ _Thanks_.” 

“No, really,” Sam insisted. “You should go lie down.” 

Castiel was listening to Jo and Charlie. The sun was shining down on them and Castiel looked beautiful under the light; the sight made Dean smile, and for a moment, he was able to pretend there had never been an accident, that everything was _normal_. Everything was _fine_. But then it was shattered when Jo and Charlie laughed and Castiel lost; not in his usual way, but in a child-like, innocence way. 

Dean sighed. “Okay,” he whispered. He relented and dragged his body up the steps to lie down. Exhaustion and weakness pulled his eyes down and did not release them from their vice grip for hours. He wasn’t woken again until he felt someone shake him. He groaned and tried to protest, but the shake came again. 

“Dean,” Sam panted, sounding out of breath. “It’s Cas. You have to come downstairs.” 

It was amazing how one sentence sent him on complete alert. Without thinking twice, Dean flew out of the bed and rushed down the stairs. Castiel was a sobbing mess on the floor, with everyone else looking confused and guilty. Dean paused to take a breath and calmly walk over, kneeling beside Cas to touch his shoulder. It had gotten dark since he’d gone to sleep, and from the looks of the room - tupperware bowls out, porch lights off, grill shut, food in states of being put away and still on dirtied plates - they had been in the midst of cleaning up and calling it a night. 

“Cas?” Dean asked, reaching over to touch Castiel’s shoulder. “Baby? What’s wrong?” 

Castiel peered at him through his fingers, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “Who’s Cas?” he whimpered. “Where am I? Who are you? Why am I here?” 

Dean felt his stomach clench. “ _You’re_ Cas,” he replied calmly. “I’m Dean. This is our house. These people are our friends. We’re married.” 

“I don’t remember you,” Castiel whispered. 

“I know.” Dean gave him a sad face. “But you will one day, okay? I promise.” 

“Why don’t I remember anything?” 

This was always the hardest question to answer. Dean sighed, wondering if it was just time to tell him about the car accident. Even if it did trigger Cas’ memory, it would be better than the blank slate he had now. “We were in a car accident,” Dean finally said. “You hit your head.” 

The room seemed to still, as if the Earth had taken a breath, and held it in anxiousness. 

“Accident?” Castiel whispered. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. You were in the hospital for a while, but you’re okay now... You just have some amnesia is all. But you’re getting _much_ better and the doctor is certain you’ll remember _everything_ soon.” 

Castiel lowered his hands and stared at him with desperation. He looked so young and innocent, it was heartbreaking. “You promise?” 

Dean nodded and pulled Cas to his chest, glancing at the photo on the counter that he could just make out from their digital picture frame. It was the two of them at their wedding, kissing, and full of life. Promising Cas something he couldn’t felt wrong, but he felt the need to anyway. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice thick with too many conflicting emotions. “I promise.” 


	4. Chapter 4

_My name is Castiel and Dean is sitting across from me. He has to go to work and cannot miss anymore days so we can have money. We were in a car accident and that is why I am this way. The doctor told me to try and go about my day like I would usually. Dean gave me instructions as to what I usually do all day. My name is Castiel Novak-Winchester. I’m married._

Castiel continued to stare at Dean while his husband read the paper and ate breakfast. He hadn’t even bothered to touch the food yet; the eggs were certainly cold by now and the grease from the sausage was congealing on the plate. Staring was apparently normal according to Dean, which was probably why it didn’t seem to be bothering him.

_Would it have been better if I’d died? Then Dean wouldn’t have to look so tired. I shouldn’t have woken up. I should have stayed in a coma. Dean wouldn’t-._

“Was I in a coma?” Castiel blurted out, which made Dean pause and glance up at him. “In the hospital?” 

“Yeah,” Dean said slowly as he set aside the paper. “Do you remember?” 

“I don’t know...” Castiel stared down at his hands and food. “I was just... thinking how it’d have been better if I’d never woken up. I just... _knew_.” 

“ _Cas_.” 

“What?” Castiel looked up at Dean. “It’s _true_!”

“It’s _not_ true!” Dean pushed his chair back, looking as if he were about to stand, but Castiel beat him to it. “Cas-.” 

“No. I should have _died_. I should have _never_ woken up to this!” Castiel gestured around them at the beautiful house he couldn’t remember. “I can’t _remember_ it, so why did I wake up at all?! I should have stayed a vegetable...” He took a few deep breaths but there were tears falling down his face and he couldn’t stop them. “I don’t want to subject you to this.” 

“Cas, c’mon.” Dean stood up and walked over to slowly touch his shoulders. “Baby, I _love_ you-.” 

“I don’t remember you,” Castiel replied brokenly, looking up at Dean in hurt terror. “I don’t remember _loving_ you. I feel nothing.” 

The words must have cut as deeply as Castiel had imagined they would; Dean pulled away and visibly flinched. “Well,” he said with a deep breath, “we can get through it-.” 

“I don’t want you to have to _get_ through it, Dean.” Castiel turned away and stared out the back windows. “I shouldn’t have woken up. Then you could have moved on with your life. Instead of... _this_.” 

“Cas you’re scarin’ me,” Dean muttered. 

He held back tear and formed his lips in a thin line, trying to choke back sobs. “You should go to work.” 

“Not when you’re like this-.” 

“Don’t you _get_ it?!” He spun around, surprised that his voice could rise so angrily. “I will _always_ be like _this_! Go to work, Dean. Please.” 

“I’m calling you every half hour,” Dean replied darkly as he turned to slowly grab his keys. They both knew they needed the money. “Got it?” 

Castiel nodded. 

“Good.” Dean gave him one last glance, something between fear and sadness, before leaving. The sound the car starting and then Castiel shut his eyes, hugging his arms around his chest. 

_My name is Castiel Novak-Winchester. I am married. Dean Winchester is my husband. I was in a coma. I shouldn’t have woken up. I should be dead. This house will be my tomb._

He shook his head, trying to stop being so damn morbid. The list was sitting on the counter, so he walked over and picked it up to read. 

_Get up (late, you hate getting up early)_

_Eat. You usually have a light breakfast - toast, eggs, that’s about it_

_Do yoga (you love morning yoga -- > the DVDs are under the TV in the top drawer) _

_Garden_

_Go to store (you usually make a list of stuff we need, but I figure we can do this first trip together so you don’t get too overwhelmed)_

_Clean (you love to clean, it’s crazy ha)_

_Make dinner (you don’t gotta do that all the time though, okay?)_

_Watch TV_

_Sleep_

Castiel stared at the list, feeling his hands start to shake. That was his entire life on paper. He wanted to crumple it up and throw it away in the trash. _That’s it? That’s all I am? That’s all I do? God, I’m boring. I’m boring and not worth the oxygen in the room._

Castiel moved his eyes around the kitchen, realizing his plate was still at the table, before turning and making his way back upstairs. Their room was neat and tidy, minus his side of the bed; he hadn’t made it yet, but Castiel ignored the bed in favor of digging through their closet to find a bag. Any bag would do. He would leave. Today. He wouldn’t come back. Dean didn’t need him around ruining his life, and he would just have to start over elsewhere. 

He’d cut their ties. 

Snip snip. 

_It’ll be easier this way._

His fingers locked around a bag, but it was stuck, so he had to give it a long tug, which made several things fall out of the closet at once, and he fell onto his butt on the ground. A string of curse words later, Castiel’s eyes fell on what had fallen from the closet. A box had upturned and on the ground were photos. 

_Many_ photos. 

Castiel stared at them, releasing the bag from his fingers in favor of picking up each photograph, studying them carefully. They were all beautiful and different; the ocean, bees, gardens, flowers, freckles, stars, Dean’s hair and face, a penis, yellow walls, a small bungalow, the beach, more ocean, in fact, the ocean was the most common theme in the photographs. Castiel ran his fingers over each and everyone, stunned by their small, crude beauty. 

It wasn’t until he came to one of a valley painted in beautiful purple and golden light, that a flash of _something_ flitted across his mind’s eye. 

_“Cas! Cas, c’mon, you gotta see this!” Dean called. “Hurry up, slow poke!”_

_“I’m coming, I’m coming. Should I remind you that_ you _are not carrying a heavy photo bag?” he panted in response as he finally came to stand next to Dean. His eyes widened at the wondrous sight of the trees and mounts. The sun was setting. He smiled._

_“Take a photo, quick!” Dean said, nudging him from his stunned reverie._

_Right. A photo. His fingers fumbled a few times, but eventually, he captured the perfect moment._

_“That one’s a keeper,” Dean said as the polaroid slid out and began to develop._

_“You haven’t even seen it yet,” Castiel spat back._

_Dean grinned and wrapped his arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “Yeah, but_ you _took the photo, that means it’s a keeper. For sure.”_

Castiel gasped and set the photo down to rest on the floor with the others. They had gone camping before they’d been married. Dean had fallen and they’d had to get him flown out by helicopter to the hospital; it had been an almost deadly tragedy, but Dean had pulled through. In fact, beneath that photograph was one of Dean on the hospital bed with his leg in a cast and a goofy grin on his face. 

The phone was ringing. 

Castiel startled but he didn’t up. The photographs were soon being separated into piles and more memories were surfacing; their trip to Disney World and then another trip to the Appalachian mountains. Both he and Dean had wandering toes; they could hardly tie themselves down to one post. 

A smile was filling Castiel’s face when Dean walked in, out of breath. He looked up then, surprised to see him. “Dean?” 

“Jesus Cas! Why didn’t you answer the phone?! I called three times!” Dean walked over, fell to his knees, and threw his arms around him. “I thought you’d done something stupid, Stupid.” 

Castiel shut his eyes and breathed in Dean’s scent; cologne, soap, whiskey, and leather. It was an intoxicating perfume. “My apologies,” he replied quietly, “but I was overwhelmed by the memories we have together.” 

Dean pulled back at that. “What?” 

He gestured to the photos. “Am I a photographer?” 

“Um, yeah, sorta.” Dean blushed at the sight of the nude and intimate pile. “You love taking photographs. You’re kind of an addict.” 

“ _Good_.” Castiel smiled happily. “Good, because I remember we went camping and you fell and we had to take you to the hospital. You broke your leg.” 

“That’s right,” Dean muttered. “I’m accident prone.” 

“We went to Disney World and we got married in a beautiful, rennovated barn.” 

Dean nodded excitedly. “Yeah! We did.” 

“You wanted to take me to the tropics, but instead, we went to Europe and stayed in hostels. It was... messy.” Castiel smiled as the memories came flooding back like the levees had broken in his mind. “I asked you to marry me... and then... I guess... You said no.” 

“I didn’t say _no_ ,” Dean said. “I said we weren’t _ready_ , but we weren’t, we were too young. We stayed together though... and then I re-proposed, you were kinda pissed at me about it.” He chuckled at the memory. “I think you even said no at first, and then a week later, you called me and said you’d marry me after all.” 

“Yes,” Castiel whispered as he began to see the memory in his own mind. “I called you an assbutt.” 

Dean laughed. Castiel glanced up at him and watched as he threw his head back and Dean’s entire body moved into the genuine laughter; he hadn’t seen Dean laugh before the accident. How long had it been since Dean had _laughed_? Really laughed? It was beautiful; more beautiful than the Grand Canyon, more beautiul than the mountains, and more beautiful than any constellation. 

“You’re beauitful,” Castiel whispered in wonderment. “it’s like gazing at the stars.” 

Dean turned red, which made his freckles stand out even more. “Yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

They leaned into each other and there was a tentative pause, before Castiel pressed forward and kissed him. They hadn’t been affectionate at all toward each other, but it felt so _good_ to kiss Dean, so right. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders and allowed his body to be pulled onto Dean’s lap. 

“I love you,” Dean whispered heatedly. 

Castiel nodded. “I love you, too.” 

“You do?” 

“Yes. I remember.” 

Dean smiled and they kissed again. 

* * *

“It’s our anniversary Sam, I can’t just blow that off!” Dean snapped over the phone as he stood in the store, scanning along the candy aisle for Cas’ favorite. 

“Does he even remember that?” Sam asked dryly. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “ _Yes_. His memory is improving vastly.” 

“Alright, well, where are you taking him anyway?” 

“We’re staying in.” Finally, Dean snatched up the bag of candy. “I gotta go, I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and headed back toward the front, where another guy was stepping up to the register. Dean stared at his phone, only half paying attention; he had yet to _get_ a gift for Cas, but he wasn’t exactly sure what to get this year. 

They were so broke anyway, which was why a bag of candy could possibly have to do. 

He was about to put his phone back into his pocket when he startled as a familiar sound made his heart stop. Another lady screamed and Dean stared up at the guy standing in front of the register; he had a gun in his hand and he’d shot the clerk. His eyes flew to the woman who had screamed, she was rushing out of the store with her son. Dean moved to follow her but the guy pointed the gun at him. 

“Whoa, man,” Dean dropped the candy and held up his hands. His phone was vibrating in his other hand. “I just wanna go home, alright?” 

The man stared at him, wild-eyed. “How do I know you ain’t gonna squeal? You look like a damn squealer.” 

“Please, just let me go, please.” He gulped, trying not to get emotional in front of this man. If he’d been closer and not wanting to startle the guy into shooting him, Dean knew he could have taken the guy out; he was trained in fighting, the guy looked more nervous than anything else. His phone kept on vibrating in his hand; one glance showed Cas’ photo. 

“Don’t move, I’ll splatter your damn brains all over the fuckin’ place.” 

Dean nodded and stayed still. “You don’t wanna shoot me... You already shot the guy, you wanna add another murder to your list? I just wanna go home, please.” 

Not on their anniversary. Of _all_ days to have something insane happen. He gulped again, wondering if he dared rush out the door; he was fairly close, and the guy was gathering up money from the drawer. His heart was pounding and his bladder was heavy. Castiel was calling him again. 

The guy turned back around and pointed the gun at him. Dean straightened up, still holding up his hands. “I’m sorry,” the guy said. 

“No!” Dean cried out, shifting for the door as the gun went off. He gasped at the pain as it ripped through his shoulder, but it wasn’t his head. He stumbled out the door and ran for the car, fumbling for his keys. He almost dropped them as his coat became soaked in blood, but Dean finally managed to get the car going and out of the parking lot, even with the crazy asshole in his rearview mirror. 

He sped away from the gas station toward the damn hospital. Again. 

It wasn’t until he was at the drop-off at the ER that he realized he’d pissed his pants and his phone was buzzing. Again. Shaky and feeling cold, Dean went to answer, but he needed to get inside. He needed to get the bleeding to stop before he went into shock. Maybe he was already in shock. The car remained running as he stumbled inside, blood soaking his shirt. 

“Sir?” A nurse stood up and rushed over to help him before he collapsed to the floor. “I need some help over here!” 

* * *

_My name is Castiel and Dean Winchester is my husband._

Castiel rushed down the hallway toward the emergency room. 

_Dean was shot. He was shot at the gas station and he lost a lot of blood but he is alive. He is A L I V E._

“Excuse me?” Castiel gasped, reaching to grasp onto a nurse. “My h-husband, he’s here- Somewhere. Dean Winchester?” 

“Yes,” she replied slowly. “He was just released from surgery. Go in and tell the nurses who you are, Dear.” 

He nodded and rushed into the waiting room, marching up to the station. “I’m Castiel Novak, my husband is here... He was shot-. His name is Dean.” 

“Same last name?” the nurse replied, preparing to type. 

“No. Winchester. His name is Dean Winchester.” _My name is Castiel Novak, my husband’s name is Dean Winchester, and he is alive._

“He’s in room 201, in the ICU. That’s upstairs. Do you want me to walk you up there?” 

He didn’t even wait for her to finish asking before he was rushing away toward the elevator, hitting number 2 over and over until the door shut. Once the doors shut, Castiel had to brace himself against the railing to keep from collapsing from shock. 

_I almost left Dean. I almost left Dean and then I remembered and now I almost lost Dean. I love Dean. I love Dean. I love him. He loves me. We are in love. My name is Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester is my husband. He is alive. In room 201. I will not forget him ever again, so help me God._

The doors chimed and opened. Castiel flew out and rushed to Dean’s room, not bothering to knock, just rushing in. “Dean?!” 

The doctor turned to look at him, holding a chart in his hands. Dean was awake and he raised a hand, waving weakly. “Who is this?” the doctor asked. 

“My name is Castiel, that’s my husband,” Castiel gasped as he walked over to collapse into a chair next to Dean’s bed. “You’re okay,” he sobbed, tears filling his eyes, and joy filling his heart. 

“Yes, he’s very lucky.” The doctor scribbled a few things and then hung the chart at the end of Dean’s bed. “He should recover just fine.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Dean muttered tiredly. “Can I get somethin’ for the pain?” 

“We already gave you some morphine, you should feel the effects soon.” The doctor handed him a remote in case he needed a nurse. “I’ll return in a few hours to check on you. In the mean time, if you need something, press that button.” 

Castiel grasped onto Dean’s good hand and brought his knuckles up to kiss. “I was so worried.” 

“I’m sorry, Baby.” Dean smiled and cupped his cheek weakly. “I’m fine. Bastard almost hit my heart, he had good aim.” 

“It’s our anniversary,” Castiel whispered. 

“Yeah.” Dean sighed and coughed a little. “Sorry it sucks.” 

“You’re alive. That’s what matters.” 

“Didn’t even get out with your candy.” Dean sighed again but he smiled a bit. “Man, I can feel that morphine kickin’ in. I’m a little loopy.” 

Castiel smiled and brushed Dean’s hair back with his hand. “Go to sleep, Dean. I’m right here for you.” 

He nodded. “I know. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.”

* * *

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester, how are you feeling today?” 

  
Dean pried his eyes open. “Fuck off,” was his tired and cranky reply. Maybe he shouldn’t be so rude to his doctor, but Dean wanted the bastard to fry for waking him up from a _great_ dream. The kind of dream that would leave him hard and aching for a Cas blowjob. 

Speaking of Castiel. Dean glanced to his side and, yes, Castiel was asleep in the chair. He smiled fondly. 

“I see you’re feeling better,” the doctor replied dryly. “Pain?” 

He shifted. “Yeah,” he hissed, trying to rub his chest, but that was probably a bad idea. “Cas? Cas, bbae, wake up.” 

Castiel shifted, his eyes blinking open in that too cute, but still grumpy, way of his. “Dean?” 

“Yeah, hey.” Dean smiled. “You remember?” 

Castiel nodded, looking amazed. “Yes. I do... I remember you and me and... stuff.” He gasped, his hand flying to his mouth. “Oh God, yellow wallpaper.” 

Dean almost laughed but he held back. “Paint, yellow _paint_.” 

“We can paint the living room blue, Dean, we _can_.” Castiel reached forward and grasped onto his hand. 

“How much do you remember?” 

“Not everything... But... I do remember you. Vaguely. I remember we’re married and I love you.” Castiel smiled proudly. “I remember our vacations and I remember our wedding day a little bit. I remember my name. That’s important, right?” 

“Yes, baby, that’s so important.” Dean brushed his fingers along Cas’ cheekbone. “I’m great, Doc, thanks.” He looked up at the doctor, hoping the guy would take a hint and leave them alone, which he did. “And you remember yellow paint...”

“Yes,” Castiel whispered. “I remember... we were arguing and then... I almost hit another car or something... and our car slid and flipped...” 

“Yeah,” Dean muttered darkly. He sighed and dropped his hand, still feeling exhausted. “Yeah that sounds about right.” 

“I’m sorry, Dean.” 

“For what? It’s both of our faults Cas, it’s not just on you.” He gave Cas a little smile and held out his hand for Cas to hold. “I was havin’ a _great_ dream. Gonna kick Doc’s ass for waking me up.” 

“Was it a dirty dream?” Castiel asked teasingly. 

“Yep.” Dean grinned and shut his eyes, hoping he could continue it on his own. “Your mouth, my dick. It was a good time.” 

“Do you wish for that dream to become real?” Castiel asked, so deadpan Dean almost believed he’d fallen asleep again. 

“Whoa- what? Cas, no, man, we’re in a hospital. _Awkward_.” He was blushing furiously at the thought, even if it did excite him; so much so that he was definitely starting to tent his gown and blanket. 

Castiel raised his eyebrow at Dean then with a smirk. “Perhaps just my hand, then?” 

Dean gasped when Castiel darted his hand under to stroke and tease him. “Cas-.” Dean gasped and moaned, his eyes fluttering at the intense pleasure; it was just a handjob, but he hadn’t had sex or touched himself or anything in the realm of sex in weeks. Maybe months. Definitely months. 

The monitors were freaking out a little as his heart rate climbed. “Shit,” he hissed. “Cas, hurry up-.” He was panting and he was about to burst, it felt too good. “God _damn_ it.” 

As he came, Dean wasn’t sure which was more embarrassing, his voice cracking or the nurse who walked in right at that very pleasurable moment. Castiel looked over at her and she sighed, rolled her eyes, and walked out. 

“Perhaps she gets this often,” Castiel said as he removed his hand, leaving Dean to pant and recover with a happy laugh. 


End file.
